"Top It!"
My son has learned how to say "stop it." Actually, it sounds more like "top it" or "bop it" most of the time. But oh how he has learned the meaning of that phrase. Whenever I correct him and he's not happy about that (which is almost all the time), he yells "Top it!"
This weekend, I took my little one to Target while Daddy stayed home to (finally) take down Christmas lights. (Hey, it's been cold out...back off). I was quite excited about the little trip for several reasons. #1. Target has great popcorn for only a buck. #2. There are hella-cute purses on sale. Not just any purse--a reversible purse. Yes, that's right. Two purses in one. Awesome. #3. I get to spend quality time with my son, and most likely spoil him by feeding him popcorn and buying him a new toy or shirt. Unfortunately, none of that was in the future for me.
As soon as we entered the store, my little one yells "Down!" and points to the doors leading from Target out into the mall. I calmly explain to him that he cannot get down, he has to sit in the cart. I even hand him his juice to make him feel better. What do I get in return? "DOWN!" Ugh. So I try to bribe him with grapes. I was hoping not to have to pull those out for at least another 15 minutes, but I figured, "What the hey, it'll get him to sit there quietly while I look at the purses, and then we'll go look at toys." But he doesn't want the grapes. He wants down. So what does he do? My precious, innocent little one hits my hand so hard that the bag of grapes fall to the floor. When I firmly tell him "Bad boy," he yells "TOP IT!" and gives me one of his evil looks. Then he starts squealing. Great. Just great.
So what do I do? I try rationalizing with him. HA! I'm standing in Target, trying to rationalize with a screaming toddler. "Honey, you can't get down. You could get hurt. Please sit in the cart." Ugh. After a few minutes, I give up, and I decide to go home in defeat. Of course, my little one makes it known that he doesn't want that, either. I have to almost break his little arm to get his coat on, and don't even ask me what I had to do to get him strapped into the car seat when we finally made it out to the parking lot. (Let's just say, CPS would probably frown upon the method).
I didn't get my shopping trip I wanted. But you know what? An hour later, my little one was stroking my hair and giving me kisses. It's all worth it. I can give up an adorable purse, as long as I still get my hair played with and wet kisses in the end.
This weekend, I took my little one to Target while Daddy stayed home to (finally) take down Christmas lights. (Hey, it's been cold out...back off). I was quite excited about the little trip for several reasons. #1. Target has great popcorn for only a buck. #2. There are hella-cute purses on sale. Not just any purse--a reversible purse. Yes, that's right. Two purses in one. Awesome. #3. I get to spend quality time with my son, and most likely spoil him by feeding him popcorn and buying him a new toy or shirt. Unfortunately, none of that was in the future for me.
As soon as we entered the store, my little one yells "Down!" and points to the doors leading from Target out into the mall. I calmly explain to him that he cannot get down, he has to sit in the cart. I even hand him his juice to make him feel better. What do I get in return? "DOWN!" Ugh. So I try to bribe him with grapes. I was hoping not to have to pull those out for at least another 15 minutes, but I figured, "What the hey, it'll get him to sit there quietly while I look at the purses, and then we'll go look at toys." But he doesn't want the grapes. He wants down. So what does he do? My precious, innocent little one hits my hand so hard that the bag of grapes fall to the floor. When I firmly tell him "Bad boy," he yells "TOP IT!" and gives me one of his evil looks. Then he starts squealing. Great. Just great.
So what do I do? I try rationalizing with him. HA! I'm standing in Target, trying to rationalize with a screaming toddler. "Honey, you can't get down. You could get hurt. Please sit in the cart." Ugh. After a few minutes, I give up, and I decide to go home in defeat. Of course, my little one makes it known that he doesn't want that, either. I have to almost break his little arm to get his coat on, and don't even ask me what I had to do to get him strapped into the car seat when we finally made it out to the parking lot. (Let's just say, CPS would probably frown upon the method).
I didn't get my shopping trip I wanted. But you know what? An hour later, my little one was stroking my hair and giving me kisses. It's all worth it. I can give up an adorable purse, as long as I still get my hair played with and wet kisses in the end.
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